In the harsh reality of the 2070s where profit is the most important mistress, the bigger the metroplex, the deeper the shadows. In the cracks between the giant corporate structures, criminals of all shades find their homes. When the megacorps want a job done but don’t want to dirty their hands, they turn to the only people who can pull it off: shadowrunners, deniable assets.

The club was loud, making it hard to really talk much without making an effort to shout to be overheard.

After a bit, Emerald Cacophony finished their set and exited to a smattering of applause. A tall man in his late 40s with a lined face, dark hair, and goatee wearing an immaculately tailored suit got up on the stage. He smiles out over the crowd. None of the runners recognized him, but Xanadu sensing revealed something of a shock: the man was actually a dragon!

He held up his hands to quiet the crowd down and said “Alright you brain damaged re-wired mutants! Here’s the reason you’ve been sweating all over our nice, clean floors all evening. Ladies and Gentlemen — if there are any out there — and the rest of you trash as well, I present to you the one, the only, MARIA MECURIAL!”

The crowd went wild as the lights dimmed, and then everything went quiet as the first haunting synthesized notes of Mercurial’s hit song “Take It To Mister” swelled up from the speakers.

A spotlight came on, illuminating a slender, lovely figure wearing a short dress of midnight blue. Her legs and arms gleamed with polished chrome from her trademark cyberlegs and arms. Her voice was as lovely as ever, and the first lines of the song washed over everyone.

Sybil wasn't overly suprised when the trio of now confirmed runners had tagged along with herself and Xanadu when asking about a booth for MacCallister. Dressed as she was, the elf mage stood out from the club and concert goers.

The female elf's hair was done up in a single braid that when down to almost to her butt. She was dressed in a simple, dark navy long sleeve shirt, and black pants. There was a choker around her neck as well a silver chain bracelet on each wrist.

In the break of the music, the elf quicly introduced herself.

"Hi, I'm Sybil. My specialty is magic."

Before she could say more, the main event on the concert stage started up, and the music washed over the entire club.

Vixen opened his mouth to add to the conversation, but then the club was so loud his words were swallowed. He would either have to yell to be heard, or lean in close and talk directly into the others’ ears, neither of which would work-long term.

Instead, he pointed to himself and mimed shooting a bow and arrow, then spread his hands, giving an apologetic smile.

He had gotten the gist of what the others were saying previously. Xanadu and Sybil. Two mages. He’d worked with mages before. They’d even had one on their team for a while. Having magical backup would be welcome.

He glanced up as the singer took the stage. He knew of her, peripherally, even though he didn’t follow the music scene much. With the crowd’s focus on the singer, Vixen turned instead and looked around. He was curious to see if everyone seemed to be here for the concert, or if some were like them – here for other reasons. Maybe he could even spot their Johnson.

Realizing that he'd been misunderstood and the music was getting very loud, he thought he'd demonstrate. With a moment's concentration he established a mental link with the others sitting with him. He looked over at Franz.

"My communication options are more limited, but effective. This is what I was referring to. Nothing special with tech, but a passable magician." he thought to the others. In the pause that followed it was clear something caught his attention as Emerald Cacophony wrapped up its set. "I'm not sure what's more interesting down there. Maria Mecurial and her music or the fact that the 'man' who introduced her is actually a dragon." He looked slightly amused.

Vixen was surprised to hear a voice sound clearly in his head, in spite of the noise.

He looked around for a moment, then realized the voice really was coming from inside his head. A mage, then. He looked between the two mages they’d just been introduced to and decided that the voice was coming from Xanadu. For one, the mental voice sounded like the man’s physical voice. And two, the conversation seemed to follow his words from right before the music had started in earnest.

Vixen didn’t know how telepathy worked, so he tried forming words in his mind.

Okay, good to know.

He didn’t know if Xanadu would be able to ‘hear’ him, or if it was all just for his benefit. Xanadu was looking at Franz in any case, so maybe not.

Xanadu smiles at Vixen's unvoiced comment. Easy to handle, if you just think about it. You can hear the smile in the thought at the joke. He will happily chat with the others during the concert while attempting to keep an eye on the Dragon. Other than excessive drinking he seems to blend into the concert crowd, though a bit more muted as if bridging the gap from the adoring throngs to his companions in the booth or at least Sybil.

As the concert ends he stands, picking up his mostly full glass of Storm Sound, Black Label. It was his third of the night. He gentlemanly offers a hand to Sybil and once his companions have risen will follow after the waitress.

Sybil was still pondering Xanadu's revelation that the MC or whatever was an actual dragon when the concert began in earnest. Immediately, the elf was glad for the second floor booth and the offered ear plugs. The music was definitly not the type that she enjoyed. However, she was sure her other personality would have been down on the dance floor. At least Mecurial had a good voice.

During the concert, Xanadu had initiated his telepathic communication with the other runners. The look of surprise on their faces was something to see as the female mage recalled her own first encounter with Xanadu's means of communication.

Took a bit to get used to my first time as well, Sybil said mentally as a reassurance to others. But very useful when tech fails or is blocked.

For the next hour or so of the concert, Sybil tried to enjoy the concert. She passed the time either chatting to the other runners or people watching. Towards the end, the elf had an appreciation for earplugs.

Taking Xanadu's hand, Sybil handed set her empty glass down and stood.

"Alright, let's see what our Mr. J has to offer tonight." Sybil said out loud as she pulled her earplugs out of her ears.

Vixen relaxed when the crowd started to thin. Fewer people in the building meant fewer witnesses in case something went down. As far as anyone knew, there were just there to see a concert, and anyone who was questioned, if they remembered them, would hopefully remember them being there all night – which was probably the intent of inviting them early and making them stay the full two hours.

He hadn’t minded the show; in fact, the lyrics had resonated with him. If Mercurical had written them, it probably meant she was sympathetic to the metahuman cause. He didn’t know how else to interpret them.

Vixen looked at his companions, old and newfound, pausing thoughtfully.

“Good show,” he said, out loud finally, since now they could hear each other. “Have you guys heard of Mercurial before?”

He was sure he'd seen at least partial photos of her. Nothing with her name on it oddly enough. Probably all AROs and things he hadn't bothered to glance at. Bits of the music seemed familiar, though he couldn't quite place from where. He hadn't seen her though. At least not before his Wake Up. It was the not knowing that was frustrating.

A slightly odd expression contorts Xanadu's face for just a moment before he provides an easy smile and a shrug. "I think so." His smile widens, "certainly will remember her after tonight's concert and the Dragon as an MC! And you're right. Great show!" he keeps his voice low especially for the MC part and then winks.

He kept his voice down and slowed his pace so they could talk, trailing behind the waitress now.

“I thought you were talking about someone’s street name.”

He nodded at Xanadu, who had mentioned something about ‘and the Dragon as an MC’, which Vixen had taken to mean that Xanadu knew the guy, who went by ‘Dragon’; perhaps a famous person Vixen didn’t know.

“Right?” he went on, after a moment. “Not a real dragon…they’re just myths, right?”

Daze got up and followed the others. He had been rather quiet during the concert, but spoke up, “I heard that at least one dragon is running a megacorp. Of course there are the stories about the huge lizards flying over the city years ago. But seeing one incognito? I suppose it stands to reason. Who makes a boardroom sized to fit creatures the size of houses?” he shrugged at the rhetorical question.

Descending from the catwalk, balcony booth the shadowrunners had been allowed to sit at among the VIP section, they could feel the afterglow vibe of the patrons talking excitedly about the spectacular show and how great it was to see Mercurial at the club. Whether fans of the singer or not, the concert and especially the seats were a rather big deal.

The waitress led the group into the backstage area, past a couple of large and obviously chromed bodyguards who stood guard. Near the ceiling there was a small Japanese boy floating and translucent, obviously a manifested spirit of some kind. Security was tight, but that was not surprising considering the superstar in attendance.

Down the hall MacCallister could be seen talking with Mercurial. He smiled and nodded to her, before heading toward waiting shadowrunners.

MacCallister was an older-looking ork, appearing to be in his late 40s. He was wearing an old, well worn, and oft-patched leather jacket, a faded Mercurial T-shirt, and a pair of jeans. Strapped to his left arm was something that looked like a keyboard, a 2050s era cyberdeck, the precursor to the modern commlink. He did not look much like your average fixer, but rather looked like a tough old shadowrunner.

Before the ork could breakway from the superstar a commotion manifests itself right there backstage, in the space between the shadowrunners and the prospective fixer.

They were unearthly abominations, spirits that resembled twisted, bipedal cartoonish coyotes, thin and starved looking with a crazed look in their eyes. They were silent, but each held a white sign on the end of wooden stick handle that read either “You sold out!” or has the word “Mercurial” on it with a red circle and cross through it.

With trouble breaking out, so do weapons as Mercurial’s two bodyguards stepped in front of the singer, as did MacCallister.

As the group head backstage Franz finds himself humming a catchy tune from the concert. Just as things look like they are about to turn to business it all gets a bit wierd.

What the drek? Fancy being caught without your gear ya dumb slotter!

Caught between the fact that he has not yet agreed to do any work (and therefore receive any pay) and the thought that a dead Johnson can't make payments Franz hesitates slightly, unsure whether to take cover or throw himself between the two parties.

Making a quick decision he shouts

"no shooting, it won't help and the risk of ricochet back here is too much, you're as likely to hurt Mercurial as you are them. Can someone talk to these guys?"

To Vixen's question about the dragon, Xanadu's mental voice comes through clearly. Yes, A dragon. Curious.

As the commotion breaks out, Xanadu quickly scans the situation. The similarity of the spirits pointed to summoned or bound ones rather than free spirits. A talented conjurer could unbind them, but alas Xanadu was not one of those. Usually discretion was the better part of valor, especially for someone of his limited talents, but this seemed to call for a more nuanced approach. The spirits hadn't attacked yet, which was a good sign. He opened his third eye, staring into the astral plane as he slid out of place and between the two parties.

Guns at his back, hostile spirits at his front, good times, good times he thought. Of course maybe his heroics might add a point in his favor with the bartender, but he quickly banished that thought as irrelevant at the moment.

Clear the crowd. If this gets messy, the less folk around, the less collateral damage. he notes to his new team.

Focusing on the spirits and anything else watching from the Astral he smiles. "You've made your point. This stunt will certainly get media attention," and he gestures to the crowd, some of which are inevitably recording or broadcasting. "Violence will only hurt your position. Leave now before YOU make this something others can't leave alone,"

he gestures reasonably then moves his hands back together ready to cast a Manaball into the Astral against these spirits, having hopefully spotted a safe place to center it that will limit the damage to just the spirits rather than the dragon or others present.